


The Bloody Hero and the Elfy Inquisitor

by Candacew



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Grey Wardens, Post-Story, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:32:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3746101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candacew/pseuds/Candacew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corypheus is gone, but there is much left for the Inquisition to do across Thedas. Kara Lavellan is heartbroken over Solas, but she can't quit being inquisitor over a broken heart. When an intruder arrives in Skyhold, he changes everything. Despite the odds and their differences, Lavellan and the Hero will fall for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrival

It had been one month since Corypheus was defeated. One month, and yet there was so much more that had to be done. The new Divine had yet to be chosen, though all signs pointed toward Vivienne. Cassandra had taken what was left of her Seekers and started to rebuild them under the Inquisition’s flag. There were problems plaguing Orlais and Ferelden. Bands of Red Templars that had yet to be eradicated. 

Lady Nightingale had her duties laid before her, and she purposefully kept herself busy to overlook the wound in her heart. Losing Justinia had hurt her more than she led on, thus she hid her sorrow and anger. It simply would not due to let herself fall to her melancholy now. Not after everything she’d been through, not after the things she’d lived through. Or, more accurately, died for. 

It was on a sunny day when everything changed. Funny how that happened. Change came when one least expected it to. The sun shone through the windowpane, illuminating the report in her hand. She decided to read the latest report on her dearest charges. Nugs were adorable beasts, and her numerous pets all held a special place in her heart, though none could take the place of her beloved Schmooples. 

Ah, Schmooples. How she missed that particular nug. She’d received it in an easier time, in a more innocent life. After Marjolaine, Leliana hadn’t expected her life to become so devoted to stopping the Blight and its darkspawn. But such thoughts she preferred not to think about. 

Leliana giggled as she read of Schmooples the Second’s antics when a scout hustled up the stairs, his green hood drooping over his eyes. He seemed worried, frantic. “Yes?” Her eyebrows knitted together. “What is it?”

“There’s…someone in the courtyard.” 

She stood, quickly following the scout down the winding tower she called home in Skyhold. “Who is this person? How did they get past the other agents?” 

“I’m not sure, Lady Nightingale,” he spoke nervously, watching her take the lead. “He is a mage, however, and the Templars among us are stirred to act.” 

She knew not who this intruder could be, for whoever he was, he slipped past them all. Leliana had eyes and ears everywhere. No one escaped her. No one. No one other than Solas, but he was another story entirely… Her frantic mind stopped as she hurried through the main hall, meeting Josephine and Cullen on the stairs. 

Cullen was rubbing the back of his neck, watching the crowd below, his other hand on his sword. “Maker’s breath,” he whispered. “Is that-”   
Clutching her golden sleeves, Josephine was quiet, having never viewed this intruder before.

Leliana pushed past them, her chainmail clinking against her body as she finished the stairs. The hood clung to her head, hiding her orange hair. A nagging feeling in her gut told her that the intruder was the last person she ever wished to see. She slipped through the crowd, yelling to the ex-templars among the soldiers, “Stand down!” When the soldiers glanced at her, dubious, she added, “This man has killed scores of templars better trained than you.” The men slowly lowered their swords, and she turned to the intruder.

That handsome half-grin. Eyes so blue the skies and oceans were envious. Hair an unnatural red, though there was a time it was brown. The laughs shared between them, the intimate kisses and shared bed. But he forsook all of that to gain…to gain what? Leliana still did not know what he gained in the Temple, but whatever it was, she died for it. She died, and the Maker gave her life. 

A small elf appeared beside Leliana, dressed in her usual beige clothing. 

At the Inquisitor’s approach, the intruding mage was unhurried in sheathing his staff, the grin on his face growing. Fur pauldrons lined his shoulders, sharp and spikey plates graced his arms and legs – armor mages kept from. It inhibited their spellcasting and their fluid movements. But not him. He, it seemed, was the exception in every single case. 

“Leliana,” the Inquisitor spoke, “who is this man?” 

Before she had the chance to reply, he took a step toward her, cocking his head as he devoured her physical form. “So the famous Inquisitor is indeed an elf,” he mused, sarcasm dripping from his low voice, calling to mind all those nights he spent going back and forth with Alistair, neither man desiring to be one-upped. “How…odd.” 

“Leliana,” the Inquisitor spoke again, prompting Lady Nightingale. 

“Inquisitor Lavellan, allow me to introduce you to Warden Amell,” Leliana paused, narrowing her stare, “the ‘Hero’ of Ferelden.”


	2. The First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan realizes the Hero isn't too bad, for a Shem.

Kara had been in the war room, staring at the map absent-mindedly when she heard of the intruder. She never thought it would be the man whom Leliana had refused to talk about, the Hero of Ferelden. Though she was an elf, she had heard the stories of how the Hero stopped the Fifth Blight, with the aid of a certain man whom betrayed King Cailan at Ostagar. All Leliana said was that he poisoned the Urn of Sacred Ashes and killed her. Grim stuff, but grim had been the definition of Kara’s life these past few weeks.

She learned her vallaslin, what they truly meant. She refused to give them up, told Solas off when he asked to take them off. She was immediately told their relationship – if it even was one – was over. Then she had to fight Corypheus. Solas was gone, and her hope of him returning was dwindling with each passing day. 

In all honesty, she thought it was him whom the commotion was centered around. But as she emerged into the courtyard and stood beside Leliana, she found it wasn’t Solas. Though, perhaps it was a good thing. If she saw his infuriating, bald head she might be tempted to zap it right off. 

At the mention of the Hero’s name, the onlookers and soldiers started mumbling. Now they knew they faced certain death going against a foe such as him. They eventually dispersed, leaving Leliana and Kara with the famous man. 

She was slow to move her gaze from her friend to the man. He was at least a head taller than Solas, and had a lot more hair. It was cut short on the sides, styled upwards. He must spend as much time fixing his hair as Cullen did. His body was covered in a mix of metals and leather. As a mage herself, she was astonished at how easily he carried himself.   
And, perhaps even more surprisingly, she found him physically attractive – at least for a Shem. 

“Warden is fine,” Amell spoke, “my Hero days are long behind me.” He gave her a smirk, causing a shiver to course down her spine. Solas had only given her a similar look maybe three times, each before they kissed. 

“Very long, I’d say,” Leliana whispered, crossing her arms. “How did you get past my agents?” 

“If I spilt my secrets, that would leave me with nothing, and I couldn’t have that.” 

She groaned, and Kara stepped in, asking, “Then tell us why you’re here.” 

“I’m here,” he began, moving closer to her. “To meet you. Imagine my surprise to find out that the rumors are true – humans, dwarves and elves alike are toasting your name. Orlais and Ferelden, united by an elf of all things.” 

Leliana said, “You met her. Now you can leave.” 

“Actually, I was thinking I could stay around for a while. Maybe go camping with the gang. Cook some Ferelden stew. Lend my aid in certain matters, if you’ll have it.” 

“We-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Amell cut in. “I do believe it is the Inquisitor who decides such matters, is it not?” 

Kara wrinkled her nose. “The Inquisition never turns down help when it is offered.” Her answer was not what Leliana wanted to hear, for the Nightingale stormed off, leaving her with the Warden. She felt odd beneath his stare, like each of her movements were noted and watched. 

It was not exactly a pleasant feeling…but after a month of solitude and constant wondering about where Solas went, why she wasn’t good enough…it wasn’t a bad feeling, either.


	3. Swooping is Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the decision settled, Lavellan spends quality time with the Hero.

The advisors stood in the war room, opposite of Kara. Each wore a concerned expression, for different reasons. Josephine was the first to speak out, her Antivan accent heavy, “Inquisitor, it might not be wise to work with the Hero of Ferelden. He is not exactly looked upon favorably among higher circles.” 

“Not to mention,” Leliana cut in, leaning on the wooden table, “all the things he has done. We cannot trust him. It will not end well.” 

Kara listened to her advisors. With her hands on her hips, her mind was already made up. She had accepted the Warden’s help, and she couldn’t refuse it now. “It has been nearly a decade. Maybe he changed.”

Lady Nightingale’s eyes closed. “People do not change that much.” 

The elf held her head high, stating simply, “I have made my decision, and I stand by it.” 

Shaking her head, Leliana stormed out of the room, muttering a harsh, “As you wish, Inquisitor.” 

Josephine, ever the diplomat, tapped her chin in thought. “Perhaps I can find a way to persuade the nobles of the Hero’s changed nature. It doesn’t have to be true, they only need to believe it.” She sent a smile toward Kara before exiting the room, leaving Kara with a silent Cullen.

“Well, Ser Rutherford,” Kara spoke, waiting for Cullen’s undoubtedly negative view of the Warden, “care to share your opinion on the subject?”

The Commander glanced to the floor, gingerly rubbing the back of his neck. “I…told you I was from Ferelden’s Circle.” 

Kara nodded. 

“As such, I knew Daylen Amell far before he became a Warden.” 

Her curiosity got the best of her, so she asked, “What was he like?” 

Cullen frowned slightly, his memories not a welcome thought. “He was always interested in pushing the limits – to the circle, to his magic. I was told to keep an eye on him. I was stationed at his harrowing. His results were – well, Gregoir never saw a quicker, cleaner harrowing.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Kara grew up in her Dalish clan, and was taught the dangers of demons and the fade, but she never had a harrowing, and she didn’t know what was involved in one. 

“Yes-” The Commander stepped closer, a mere arm’s reach from her. His scratchy tone lowered, and he chose his words carefully, “I do not trust him, nor should you. Leliana is right.” 

She wanted to tell him off, but Kara knew he was only trying to protect her. Ever since Solas left and took a piece of her heart with him, Cullen had been acting strangely. He watched her more often, took time to speak with her, even if he was busy. Sera suggested it might be some kind of infatuation, but Kara didn’t believe that. The Commander only cared for her as a friend. If he truly liked her…he wasn’t a master at sending the correct signals. 

“Be careful,” he told her, “and please do not do anything reckless.” 

Kara acted appalled, teasingly pushing his arm. “Reckless? How dare you, sir! I am always careful.” She grinned a toothy grin, right before making a dash to the window and hopping out. She was always hopping off railings, balancing on beams and taking shortcuts. In the beginning, it maddened Cassandra to no end, but the warrior was used to it now. 

Landing on the grass, she straightened herself out as she tossed a wave to Cassandra. Kara headed to the courtyard, where Warden Amell stood, watching the surgeons tend to their patients below. As she approached him, she couldn’t help study his form. Strong, long legs. A wide, muscular back. Arms that rivaled Cullen’s. 

He looked more like a warrior than a mage. 

Kara was the stereotypical elf – small, limber, agile. But she was also a mage by birth, so her arms were extra thin, but she made up for it in her concentration and willpower. Her golden hair was highlighted from many days in the sun, her skin a dark tan. 

Without turning to look at her, the Warden spoke, “I take it no one took the news well?” As she moved beside him, he gave her a lopsided grin. “Can’t say I’m surprised. No one seems to like me these days.” 

“From what I hear about you, I don’t blame them,” Kara said. 

“Oh? And what have you heard about me, Inquisitor?” 

“You killed Leliana and poisoned the Urn.” 

The Hero of Ferelden smirked, and for a moment Kara felt her heart flutter. He was a deeply attractive shem – far different than the last man she gave herself to. But she wouldn’t let herself be taken by the Warden. A man who starred in such dark stories could only use her and promptly dump her. Kara did not want to go through that again. 

“Ah, I remember that day. A Tuesday, I think. Not one of my better days,” he remarked. His blue gaze consumed her, his lips parting slightly. When Kara found herself staring at his mouth, she angled her head toward the barn where Blackwall often occupied his time. “How about you walk the ramparts with me, and I’ll tell you anything you desire. Does that sound like a fair trade, Inquisitor?” 

No, it didn’t. If he told her the truth about his actions and his past, he stood to gain nothing. Why would he be so quick to wade through the murky waters of his past? What did he   
gain from her company? 

Kara was never one to back down, so she agreed. 

They walked the ramparts, and she asked every question that entered her mind. The Warden did his best to answer every question, and Kara wondered if he was telling her the truth. Lies, death and betrayal – forcing Logain to take the final blow against the archdemon. Hearing it firsthand was a lot different than hearing the stories after they traveled through dozens of subtle changes. 

After a few hours, the Warden leaned on the battlement wall, overlooking the snowy mountains surrounding Skyhold. “Now it’s your turn, Inquisitor.” The Warden glanced to her, his turn to be curious. “Tell me, how in Thedas did you defeat Coryshit?” 

Kara giggled. “You sound like Sera.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“You shouldn’t,” she spoke, a genuine smile forming. 

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“All right.” Kara pictured the final scene. Legs spread apart, arms lifted, her mark glowing a bright green. “He had this Elven orb, and I took it from him and sent it up into the Breach.” She mimicked her movements, pretending she was sending the orb up again. “With the Breach closed, Corypheus was powerless. I said some witty line – don’t remember it now – and threw him in the fade.” 

The Warden waited, as if expecting more. “That – that’s it? You wiggled your hand and…the end?” 

She nodded. 

“Hmm.” 

 

Kara felt offended that he wasn’t impressed by her feats. “Is something wrong?” 

His broad shoulders shrugged. “It all seems sorta anticlimactic to me. All that fuss over that thing, and that’s all it took to defeat him? The archdemon took a hell of a lot more work than a wiggle of my fingers. Do you know how many shots I had to fire from those ballistas?” 

“Well if you were there, you could’ve swooped in and saved the day with style, but it was up to me, and I did what I could.” 

His smirk grew. “I don’t doubt it. And on a side note, I don’t swoop. I have strut. Swooping. Is. Bad.” 

Swooping is bad, Kara repeated in her head. Solas had swooped in out of nowhere and stolen her heart. Oh, yes. She wanted to avoid any future swooping. That was what she told herself. But if that was true, why did she spend nearly all day with the Warden?


	4. The Cub and The Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hero and the Commander have a talk. And butt heads. Mostly over the Inquisitor.

The Hero of Ferelden prided himself on many things. He was a decent cook – far better than Alistair ever was. His magic was strong and potent, nearly unbeatable, even by Templars. He was also smart, or at least smart enough to know that there was another way to survive the encounter with the archdemon. He didn’t need to have a demon baby with Morrigan. 

That’s why he kept Logain around. 

What the Hero failed to realize was how much he would enjoy his time in Skyhold. The Inquisitor was…not what he was expecting. He spent some time with Circle elves, not much, but enough to know she was nowhere near their level. She was much, much higher. 

The way she walked, the way she talked. Even her smile. It was so very…enthralling. 

Much more enthralling than any of his past lovers had been, including Leliana. The number wasn’t high, but he knew enough to see the facts before him. The Inquisitor might be an elf, but she was stunning all the same. 

Andraste’s ass. He couldn’t be falling for the Inquisitor. No. Impossible.

He came to Skyhold when he sensed Corypheus’s fake calling cease. His own search into a cure for it had grown cold, so he had nothing better to do than check out the most powerful force in Thedas. 

But that was a month ago. Why was he still here? 

As he sat, his legs dangling off the stone wall, he overlooked the courtyard. The sun was bright, shining down on the Inquisitor. Daylen Amell watched as she practiced her magic. She specialized in storm magic, tossing lightning bolts to the practice dummies. Though the distance between them, he could feel her magic in the air. It enticed him, drew him to her. It was captivating. 

Daylen grinned to himself, incredulous at how easily Inquisitor Lavellan had caught his attention. She refused to let it go, it seemed. 

He kept to himself during his stay at Skyhold, and the others did the same. Leliana was never within a fifty foot radius of him, which he did not mind. He had ended her life, and if the Maker truly had brought her back, who was he to bait the rogue? He would let her be, unless she got in his way, just as she had in the Temple of Sacred Ashes.   
He wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, but if someone asked for it, he obliged. 

Daylen happened to tear his eyes from Kara, noticing some movement on the battlements above. Another man watched the Inquisitor, a man whom Daylen was quite acquainted with. So, being the man he was, he headed for the stairs, quietly stalking the battlements until he came upon the familiar Templar. 

Cullen was oblivious to his approach, and Daylen stopped himself from mauling the ex-Templar. He was too invested in the Inquisitor below. Daylen did not particularly like that Cullen was so absorbed in her. Was it a flare of jealousy? How strange. 

“My, my,” Daylen broke the silence, causing Cullen to jump in surprise. “Is that a hint of desire I detect on your face, Cullen?” 

“I – I wasn’t…” Cullen coughed, gripping his glade tightly. He quickly regained his composure, adding, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.” Strong arms leaned on the cold stone before him, and Daylen held the tawny gaze of the ex-Templar. “Commander of the great Inquisition, restorer of peace and savoir of Orlais. Times have changed you.” 

The Commander scowled at him, his face growing angry – an expression he did not wear often. “As have you. I have heard your exploits, other than what you did at the tower, and I know what you are.” 

“Most people know what I am, but what about you, Commander? Do they know the things you’ve said? What you begged me to do ten years ago? Surely,” Daylen paused, gesturing to Skyhold, “the mages you command would not take kindly to hearing the truth.” 

Cullen frowned, breaking eye contact to once again look at the Inquisitor. “That was a dark time.”

“You wanted them all to die. You wanted the Right of Annulment.” The memories were vivid, fueling Daylen’s irritation. “You asked a mage, who grew up in the very same Circle, to kill not only the Demons, but also his friends. Now look at you. In charge of an army of rebel apostates, your leader a Dalish elf – a mage who never once stepped foot in a Circle. Ironic that you fell for a mage, don’t you think?” 

“I…may care for the Inquisitor, but my feelings are none of your business.”

“Whatever your feelings are-” Daylen’s posture straightened, and he stood eye to eye with the Commander. “-they matter not. She would never want a cub like you.”

“I am no cub,” Cullen growled, the fur on his shoulders puffing with the aid of the breeze. 

“You are a cub compared to me, Templar. I could snuff you out with a flick of my wrist. I heard you stopped taking lyrium – kudos, by the way – but that leaves you powerless against me. When given the choice, who would ever pick a cub over a dragon?”

For the next few minutes, Cullen and Daylen exchanged threatening glares. Neither man blinked. Neither man was about to back down. Both wanted the Inquisitor, perhaps for the same reason. She was a wonder and a beauty, even if she was an elf. She had an army at her fingertips, held the power to do anything she wished. What was more attractive than a woman in power? To Daylen, nothing was. 

Unless that woman was wholly undressed and in his bed. 

Confident was another word he would use to describe himself, for he knew that sooner or later, he would have her right where he wanted her, and for the first time in what felt like years, he was genuinely happy with the prospect. And thrilled.


	5. What a Lovely Mouth You Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara Lavellan meditates in the mountains around Skyhold. Warden Amell finds her and teaches her many things, not all of which are magic-related.

Cool, crisp air blew around her. Kara sat in the snow, legs crossed, palms flat. She wore an extra layer of clothing – a furry, hooded jacket. The hood was up, covering her long ears from the bitter wind. The mountains around Skyhold were far wintrier than the inner courtyards and green grass would present. Maybe it had something to do with Skyhold’s ancient, deeply ingrained magic. 

Solas had told her that. 

Meditating, her focus was purposefully kept away from him. She did not need to spend any more time thinking about Solas. She was ready to move on, to what though, she couldn’t say. She couldn’t say why, but she began to think of the Warden. 

The Hero of Ferelden, vanquisher of the archdemon and slayer of darkspawn. She had asked him about that mission in the temple, where he struck down Leliana, and he had given her an answer. He didn’t believe they were truly Andraste’s ashes because he didn’t believe in Andraste. Leliana did, and she stood by her beliefs even in the face of Daylen Amell. Killing her might have been an overreaction, but Kara knew the burden of command. She had to make tough decisions before, so she couldn’t judge him on his past actions. 

Cold, wet snow blew against her form, causing her to lose focus. Her teeth chattered, and she was just about to give up when she heard the crunching of snow beneath boots. She sensed his magic immediately. 

“Is this what you do when you’re not in Skyhold?” The Warden spoke, sarcasm dripping from every word, “I had a camp, with a campfire. You know, warmth. Odd thing is, no matter where in Ferelden we were, the camp always looked the same.” He chuckled, standing beside her as he crossed his arms. “Had a dog, too. I do miss that mabari.” 

“What is with Fereldens and their dogs?” 

The Warden smiled. “You see, a dog is just like a Ferelden. Loyal, somewhat intelligent, trainable. Plus, the smell.” He studied her. “Are those tiny shoulders of your shaking, Inquisitor?”

Kara’s gaze fell into her lap. “I am…used to the warmer flatlands. I do not like the snow.”

“Hardly anyone does. Just conjure up a fire. It’ll make this – whatever this is – more enjoyable.”

She bit her lip, muttering a quiet, “I would if I could.” 

“What was that?” He knelt beside her, his face carrying an incredulous expression. “You don’t know how to cast fire? Any fire spell?” The Warden’s smile grew as she mournfully shook her head. Her stomach churned under his gaze; that smile warming her to the point where she no longer needed a fire. “That’s unbelievable. Fire is the first type of spell every mage wants to learn.”

“I stuck with storm magic. It came easier to me.” 

“Nonsense,” he said with a wink. “You simply did not have a good teacher. Any magic can come easy when you’re taught correctly.” He held out a hand to her as he stood. “Come on, take my hand and I’ll show you.” 

To say that she was hesitant would be a vast understatement. Deep down, she knew that taking his hand held a larger meaning, one she was not certain whether or not she was ready for. Kara was drawn to the human, it was true – but a part of her refused to acknowledge it. That part, however, diminished as she slipped her gloved hand in his. 

Daylen Amell pulled her up, demanding, “Gloves off.” As she worked to get them off and shove them in her pockets, he walked around her, positioning himself behind her back. Though she could not see him, she felt his eyes on her – a strong gaze, intimidating yet filled with a desire she herself was starting to feel.

“The essence of fire that you must understand is heat.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t say.”

“You have to have the heat, feel it inside,” he continued. “Only then will you be able to manifest it through your magic.” 

She was seconds from making a smart comment about how Circle mages were taught when felt him step closer and set a hand on her abdomen, through the fur-lined buttoning on her jacket. What warmth his mere smile gave her was utterly dwarfed by the feeling of his hand. Beneath her shirt, her skin tingled. 

“The heat starts in your gut,” Daylen whispered, holding her against his front. “Where it initially forms, burning, building – rising. You keep that feeling, you feed it with your will until it spreads, devouring your heart and filling your lungs.” 

As she listened to him, she closed her eyes, reveling in the steadiness of his voice, the power in his tone. Kara rested the back of her head upon his chest, unable to hold it up herself. She had never felt as relaxed as she did in that moment, even with the heat in her body doing exactly what he was describing in her ear.

“But remember you are always in control. You are its fuel, you command the fire.” As he whispered into her ear, his other hand traced the underside of her arm, lifting it. Her hand melded into his, small and soft in his rough, calloused hand. “Feel it in your fingertips, and let it out.” Daylen chuckled, amused. “A quick study, I see.” 

Kara immediately opened her eyes, shocked to see a moderately-sized fireball resting in the air above her hand. She gasped, almost losing it. Amazed that it came so easily, she stepped away from the Hero of Ferelden, too entranced in the fireball, watching its flames lick the cold air, coiling and curling. 

Unfortunately, as she wandered from the Warden, she trudged through the snow and her foot collided with an unexpected and totally unseen rock. Even her elven blood could not twist and avoid what came after: a fall. A fall face-first into the snow. The fireball hovering over her hand disappeared like a wisp in the Fallow Mire, gone the moment she hit the snow. 

The sounds of bellowing laughter filled the mountainside, and as she slowly sat and wiped her face, Kara shot a glare at the Warden, who was laughing so hard he had to hold onto his stomach, otherwise it might just explode. 

White snowflakes dotted his blood red hair, a stark contrast. Feigning to wipe a tear from his eye, he spoke between laughs, “I thought you elves had the poise and elegance of those halla things you’re always riding around on-”

“First,” Kara hissed, growing irate, “we never ride the halla. Secondly, it was under a foot of snow-” 

“I don’t want any of your excuses, Inquisitor.” He rubbed his hands together, a mischievous grin forming. “Just wait until I get back to Skyhold and tell all your little friends that you’re not such a graceful elf after all – they’ll probably take away your title and give it to me. Inquisitor Amell, has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” 

As he went on and on, Kara fumed and did the only thing she could think of: used the white snow around her and bunched it in a tightly packed ball. When Daylen was effectively lost in the way his surname sounded with her title, she lobbed the snowball as hard as she could. It hit its mark: his blabbering face. Her accurate aim made her giggle, and the shocked expression that grew on his face only made her laugh more.

Suddenly, the broken snowball on his face turned to water, swiftly evaporating with the aid of magic. “Ooh, Inquisitor, you shouldn’t have done that.” With a smirk that sent her stomach twisting, he bent and quickly built his own snowball. 

Kara leapt to her feet in an attempt to run, but it was too late; he had already thrown the snowball at her, and there was only one way to avoid it. A reflective, blueish barrier surged forward, engulfing her body just as the snowball hit her chest. The barrier absorbed the impact, the ball dropped back into the snowy ground. 

“No fair,” Daylen remarked. “A barrier for a snowball? What kind of cheater are you? Good thing I know exactly how to deal with your kind.” He held up a hand, and a snowstorm brewed, flying from his will, aimed for Kara. The magic pelted her barrier, and she felt it beginning to weaken. The Warden bent to begin the process of building yet another snowball to pelt her with once her barrier was depleted. 

Not if she could help it. 

As the barrier flickered in strength, finally giving up, the magical snowstorm ceased, and by the time the Warden returned to where she was, she was gone. Fade-step away, running through the skeletons of trees. Kara took on speed, once more the deft elf that liked to climb and hop around Orlais and Ferelden alike. The world was her playground.  
She managed to toss a glance over her shoulder, not seeing Daylen anywhere. She couldn’t possibly have lost him that easily. As she maneuvered herself, Kara realized she was having fun. Fun. A word she hadn’t used to describe her time or her duties in a while – since before Solas left. It was a good change, and it felt wonderful to laugh and smile again.

As Kara returned her attention before her, she stumbled to a halt, for the Hero of Ferelden was in front of her, large snowball in hand, grinning a wicked smile. “How?” she asked, breathless. 

He pointed to himself. “Hero of Ferelden. Warden-Commander of Amaranthine. You don’t get to where I am today without a few tricks.” Daylen threw the snowball, and Kara managed to dodge it by jumping behind a nearby tree. “Lucky duck,” he called out. “But you won’t be so lucky next time.” 

Kara peeked from the side of the tree, finding that the Warden had vanished again. Where - ? 

“Behind you, Inquisitor.” 

She jumped at his unexpected closeness. There was no escaping the third snowball. He was too close. “I…” Kara mumbled as he stepped closer, threateningly holding up the snowball with a raised brow. “…wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” 

“But you threw one at me. I have to pay you back somehow, don’t you agree?” 

“Nope,” she squeaked, backing herself into a tree. No there was no place she could run. 

“Well you see, you started this snowball fight, and snowball etiquette dictates that I finish it.” 

“You don’t have to.” At this point, she’d say anything to get out of that snowball. Getting a face-full was all the snow she needed today. 

Daylen spoke wryly, “Are you suggesting I bend the rules for you – the rules that have been set in place for centuries?” As she nodded slowly, he set his other arm on the tree, blocking her from running. “You are cute, but rules are rules.” 

“I thought you’d say rules are meant to be broken,” she said, lifting her face to look at him. “From all your stories and the tales about you, you never seemed a stickler for the rules.” Kara swallowed, ignoring the fact that he called her cute. Such a shem word, one she hardly understood yet she felt her heartbeat increase at its use. 

“How am I going to pay you back, if not with this snowball?” 

Kara was keenly aware of how close his body was, inches from hers – too close to throw a snowball at her. They both were adults, and they both knew that snowball in his hand was never going to be thrown. “I’m sure you can find a way,” she whispered. 

“If only you knew the turns my mind takes when you bait me like this, Inquisitor.” 

“Maybe you should show me.” The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. She never had said anything like that to Solas, so why something so provocative to Warden Amell, whom she hardly knew? 

“A very tempting invitation,” Daylen muttered. “I find myself compelled to do just that.” The snowball fell from his grip, landing and breaking in the snow on the ground. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the tree harder than she was before. The hand that previously held the snowball reached into her hood, angling her face. It was surprisingly warm, just as his breath was on her skin. The Warden kissed her. 

Slow, at first, like two unfamiliar materials meshing together for the first time. The cautious locking of their lips soon gave way to a deep hunger once he understood that Kara wasn’t going to stop him. She didn’t want to. She wanted his mouth on hers, his hands on her neck and waist. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.  
She felt his tongue slip into her mouth, dancing with hers. Kara drew her hands up his chest, the power he held evident with each heavy breath from his lungs. A strange thing to kiss a human – and an even stranger thing to fully enjoy it. Odd to want it to never end. 

After what felt like an eternity exploring her mouth with his tongue, he pulled back enough to inhale. Kara’s cheeks were flushed, her stomach flipped at the thought of him doing more to her. Ripping off his armor, tearing off her clothes…such thoughts were new to her, for she and Solas had never done more than kiss. And their kissing was nothing like what she just did with Warden Amell. 

“Better than a snowball?” Daylen teased, drawing the hand that held her waist up her side. 

“Yes,” she said, breathless. 

He rested his forehead on hers as he added, “Has anyone ever told you what a lovely mouth you have?” As she shook her head gently, he chuckled, standing back and taking her tiny hand in his, raising it to his mouth. “Then let me be the first. You have a lovely mouth, Inquisitor.” He pecked her hand. “One I plan on enjoying many more times.” As he released her hand, he flashed a white smile. 

The curtness of his words made her blush, as did the awareness that she wouldn’t stop him. 

Alas, she did manage to say, “Getting cocky, are we?”

Daylen Amell grinned, and her eyes fell to his mouth. “Some would call it confidence.” 

His confidence was, in fact, very well placed.


	6. Spies, Threats, and a Game of Wicked Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hero has words with Leliana. Varric invites him for a game. The Inquisitor has horrible luck and ends up nearly naked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [first time writing a bit of smut, so bear with me guys, and sorry if it's cheesy]

Daylen Amell was strangely content as he headed up the stairs to the tower were Lady Nightingale spent most of her time. He’d received word from one of her agents that she wished to speak with him, that he was to go to her at his earliest convenience. He doubted that she desired to reminisce about their days together, so there was only one thing Leliana could wish to discuss: the Inquisitor. 

Ah, the lovely Inquisitor Lavellan. He grinned at the memory of finally tasting her. Though they were in the mountains, there was nothing hotter than the way he felt when she basically asked for him to do it. Yes, what a memory. 

He planned on making many more with her. 

Daylen pushed open the door, emerging into Leliana’s roost. He immediately saw the rogue kneeling before a small statue of Andraste, her hood covering her orange hair. Leaning on a pole, he crossed his arms and said, “Have to say, that outfit is worlds better than the Chantry robe I found you in.” 

She was slow to stand and turn to him, shooting him a glare that would catch any other man dead. “I did not ask you here to discuss my clothing.” 

“Then what is it?” he asked, annoyed. 

“I have a report that details a certain…encounter in the mountains.” 

“Spying on me, Leliana?”

She frowned, her delicate features twisting into revulsion. “It is my duty to watch over the Inquisitor. To analyze threats to the Inquisition, regardless of their origin. After everything you did to me, you must understand why I am protective of our Inquisitor Lavellan.” Leliana walked to her table, setting her hands flat on its surface. “You hurt me in ways I would wish upon no one, Daylen. You defiled Her ashes…and the rumors surrounding Connor at Redcliff.” Her light eyes flicked to him. “Did you even save the boy? Or did you leave him possessed? Is that how you gained your power?” 

“Stop drudging up the past, Leliana. It was over ten years ago. We were both very different people.” 

“Dying does not fade from memory so easily, and neither does blood magic.” 

“Do I look like an abomination?” He sneered. “No. Blood magic is magic; one must simply learn to control the urges.” 

“If you hurt the Inquisitor, Daylen, you will be dead before you can leave the scene of the crime. I have an army of agents scattered across the globe. I will not hesitate to send each and every one after you.” 

He found himself grinning at her threat. “I don’t doubt you will.” He spun on his heel, having enough of the interaction. Daylen would rather spend his time with Kara. In fact, he’d rather be literally anywhere than in the same room as Leliana. 

Daylen skipped down the stairs, passing the mage who spent all his time with his nose in books, heading down the second flight of steps and emerging in the great hall. He made it not two steps when a raspy voice called for him. 

“Warden?” the dwarf by the fireplace asked. “May I have a word?” 

He approached the dwarf. Not exactly the type of dwarf he was used to. All those he met in Orzammar were beard-wearing dwarves. This one, however, seemed to care less about facial hair. He was more into his chest hair and his wide-open shirts. 

“The name’s Varric,” the dwarf spoke, motioning to the nearby table. “How about a game of Wicked Grace?” 

“I’m not really one for gambling,” Daylen replied. 

“Think of it as more of a conversational starter, then,” Varric said, taking his boxy frame to a chair as he pulled out a deck of cards. “You’ve been here for a while, and it occurs to me that I don’t know much about you, other than the stories I’ve heard.” As Daylen sat across him, he dealt the cards. “Let me start by asking if they’re all true.” 

The Warden sighed, not wanting to further delve into his past. “That depends. What have you heard?” 

“Let’s start with the big one: you killed our Nightingale. True?” 

Daylen nodded. 

“All right, what about the anvil?” 

“Gave it to Branca.”

“Amaranthine, or the Keep?” 

Daylen played a card, of which Varric swiftly regained the upper hand. He never was any good at Wicked Grace. “The Keep.” 

“I had a brother who you might’ve gotten along with. He was batshit crazy, even before the red lyrium got into his head,” Varric told him, rubbing his square jaw. “But the bastard – sorry Mother – was still my brother. After everything he did, everything our discovery led to – most recently involving all the red lyrium showing up everywhere – I still hoped he would change, maybe Hawke could get through to him. But it was too late for Bartrand.” 

Not knowing what else to say, Daylen muttered, “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“What I’m trying to get at here is: there is still time for you, Warden. You can, and you have everything you need to do it. Namely, one of the most important people in Thedas. I’m sure Curly, Ruffles and Nightingale have tried to keep you and the Inquisitor apart, but I think she’ll be good for you.” 

“Varric, I’m too old for a lecture,” Daylen told him simply. 

“And I pride myself on never giving them,” Varric chirped, grinning. “Just let me say this, and then we can finish this game.” He set down his cards, face-down, staring straight into the Hero’s eyes. “She’s been through a lot, you know. She’s been hurt. She could use someone who takes off some of that responsibility heaped on her shoulders. Oh, and if you hurt her, there is an entire world of people who will fight to defend her, including me and Bianca.” He gestures to the crossbow leaning against the stone wall. 

Daylen broke out into a full-blown grin, incredulous. “Why does everyone feel the need to threaten me today?”

Scratching his chest, Varric chuckled. “Sorry, Crimson. Had to throw it in. She’s…one of the few good people left, one of my good friends – speaking of the Inquisitor,” his voice rose the moment Kara Lavellan walked in the great hall. “Come join us. We just started.” 

Daylen turned his head, watching as she slipped into the chair beside him, their knees touching. He smiled as their eyes met. Her long, golden hair cascaded down her thin shoulders, her lips parted in a growing, shy grin. Such shyness she did not show him on that mountaintop. Not at all. The Inquisitor was all too willing to invite him close, tempting him. 

He’d never been a man made for commitment or love, if his past with Leliana was any indication. And yet…something was different with her. She was different. 

Oh, Andraste’s ass. Who was he to deny it? 

He wanted her. He wanted her more than he ever wanted a woman. He wanted to take her in his arms, take her to his room, and make Kara his. He wanted to tear off her clothes and see her utterly bare. Touch every inch of her with his mouth, feel her tremble with pleasure beneath him. 

There were times in his past he thought similar things about other women, but none held his attention like the Inquisitor. He knew none of them would last. But Kara…he wanted her tonight, he wanted her tomorrow, and he wanted her the day after. Daylen wanted to be with her, to be the only man who was with her. 

He was caught in her web, entranced in her wide, elven eyes and her sun-kissed skin, and honestly, he did not want to escape. 

“Deal me in, Varric,” Kara spoke, shattering his inappropriate thoughts. 

And thus Daylen, Varric and Kara spent the next few hours playing Wicked Grace. By the time the tenth game passed, Daylen had grown pretty good. So good, he didn’t want to stop playing. The hour had grown late, and the people who occupy the great hall during the day disappeared to their bedchambers.

Varric yawned. “I think I’m out, but tell you what: you keep at it. Hone your skills and maybe one day I’ll get everyone together, and we’ll see if you can beat our resident Antivan.” 

Daylen chuckled, recalling the smooth assassin, Zevran. “I’ve known enough Antivans to know that one can never win against one in a betting game.” 

“True enough.” With a wave, Varric got up, swung Bianca around his shoulders, and disappeared, leaving Daylen alone with the stunning Inquisitor. 

He threw a quick look around to make sure they were alone, and once he knew there were no others in the great hall, he shuffled the deck. “How about one more game, Inquisitor?” Daylen spoke with a smirk. “Except this time, we raise the stakes.” 

She whispered, “I’m not giving you the key to the Inquisition’s treasury. Josie would kill me.” 

“I would never ask for that…what I want to gamble with is something we both have plenty of right now.” Daylen dealt their hands without peeking, too invested in what he was about to say. “Clothes.” 

Kara’s mouth fell ajar; however, she didn’t say no. She tried to avoid it by saying someone might walk in at any moment, but he reassured her that it was too late an hour. And, to his exhilaration, they did play. 

The first hand was his, so she took off her boots. The second hand was also his, so she slipped off her socks. The third went the same, so Kara was forced between the choice of her pants or her shirt. She chose her shirt, and Daylen could not help but smile as she undid the buttons, slowly shrugging it off under his gaze. 

She had a simple black bra on, a thin layer indeed, but one his imagination could fill. Thin, due to her elven blood, her waist small and her stomach flat. Her collarbone deepened with each breath. 

Daylen was so distracted by her shirtless form that he lost the next two hands. Off his gloves went, and to make the ground more even, he decided to take off his shirt rather than his shoes. He had to stand to do it, for there were armor patches and numerous belts which held little value other than for aesthetics. 

The Inquisitor eyed him as he freed his torso from his top, dropping it on the empty chair across the table. He was more defined muscularly than other mages, for he liked to be in the thick of the fight. Muscles often came in handy. Plus, he felt better in some armor, and to wear armor, one had to have a bit of strength. 

He returned to his seat, he cocked an eyebrow at Kara. “Like what you see?” 

Kara quickly blushed, her cheeks flushing, and she turned away. “What would give you that idea?” 

All he did was smile and deal another hand. To his luck, he gave himself quite the hand. He would undoubtedly win this round, and Daylen grew excited at the thought of what she would take off next. 

“Oh,” she whispered, light and feathery once she comprehended the fact she’d lost yet another hand. Kara shot him a knowing look as she stood, turning to give him her back as she wriggled out of her pants. 

He didn’t mind that she turned. Actually, he rather liked the view of her backside. Firm and round in all the right places. Her underclothing was a small triangle, matching the fabric of her bra. She sat in her chair, hands in her lap. She was trying to not let her anxiety show, and she was failing. 

Daylen inhaled sharply, knowing he couldn’t contain himself much longer. How could he, with Kara sitting beside him, practically naked? 

She began reaching for the cards, but he set his hand atop hers, warming her cool hand with his. Daylen carefully tucked some of her long hair behind her pointed ear, saying quietly, “Kara. You are the most beautiful woman I have seen in my entire life.” 

A genuine smile formed on her lips. “You’re just saying that because I’m half-naked-”

“You know it’s true,” he muttered, snaking his foot around the heel of her chair and pulling it closer to his. Daylen moved his hand to the small of her back, his stare falling to her lips. All traces of her uneasiness had gone, disappeared just like that. 

He closed what little distance there was between their lips, and she was eager to kiss him again, to show him that he wasn’t the only one who felt something. Kara wanted him just as much as he wanted her. She took her hand away from the cards, bringing it to his chest. Feeling her small hand on his bare skin, he grinned into her mouth, groaning as he lifted her off her seat and onto his lap. 

“Ooh, Inquisitor,” he murmured after he buried his face in her neck. The feeling of her sitting on him, on his growing hardness, it was almost too much. “You drive me crazy.” He nuzzled her neck, kissing and nipping softly. 

“Crazy, is it?” Kara asked, breathless. “That’s not the word I would use.” A sigh came from her as he moved to her throat, brushing her chin with his lips, nibbling her jawline. 

“Then what word would it be?” Daylen could scarcely speak, the desire was so strong inside him. 

Kara didn’t respond. She moved her body back to swing her leg over him, straddling him so she didn’t have to turn to kiss him. Her fingers glided down his chest as she examined him, now sitting directly on his hardened member. His stimulation was obvious, but she didn’t seem to mind. She ran her hands through his maroon hair, pulling softly as she kissed him hard. 

He closed his eyes, letting out a low moan as he held her to him, moving her hips in a rhythm that felt explosively good. “Very crazy,” he uttered, his hands exploring her stomach and chest, resting cautiously over her heart. His fingers toyed with the lace on her bra, and he wanted nothing more than to take what little clothes she had off. 

To have her naked would be like having everything he ever wanted. 

To have her naked and on top of him…well, he’d be in pure bliss. 

But he was Daylen Amell, and right now he felt the urge to be in control. 

Biting her lower lip, he picked her up as he stood, laying her down on the table after haphazardly pushing Varric’s deck aside. His back was straight as he moved between her legs, unhurriedly touching her thighs, drawing circles and shapes until he lowered his head and brought his mouth to where his hands were. He kissed each thigh tenderly, holding her sides down as he took his lips to her stomach. 

Daylen’s mouth traveled upward, through the center of her chest, over the fabric of her bra. A strong, large hand moved over her left breast, kneading it through the bra as he kissed her, slipping his fervent tongue in her mouth. Her lovely, wonderful mouth. 

She whimpered beneath him, squirming and driving him further into his thirst for her. He wanted to take her here and now, to make her his and his alone, mark her and claim her. To fuck her like he’s never done before. Oh, yes, he’s never wanted to be inside of someone as badly as he wanted to be inside of her. The mere thought of feeling her surround him sent him over the edge. 

He needed to know what she felt like. 

With his tongue meeting hers and his one hand on her breast, he slowly brought his other hand to the small triangle of a loincloth between her legs. But before he could do anything, Kara jerked back, pushing his face away. He stopped cold when he saw the expression in her eyes. 

“No,” she whispered, “not here. Not now. I’m not – I don’t want…” Kara Lavellan stumbled over her words, frowning at herself. 

Daylen withdrew his hands, wiping the hair from her sweaty face. It was not what he wanted to do, definitely not what he desired to hear, but he couldn’t go against her wishes. “As you wish, Kara,” he whispered, giving her a warm smile. 

“I’m sorry.” She looked ashamed.

“Don’t be,” Daylen replied, pressing his lips on her forehead. “I got a little hasty…and if I’m being honest, I might have cheated at that last hand.” His chest rumbled with laughter as she playfully swatted his arm. 

Soon enough she’d be ready, he knew. He hoped. Daylen could wait for her. He would wait as long as it took, for as far as he was concerned…she was already his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I get a whoot-whoot for a cocky yet respectful Hero? :) 
> 
> More chapters will be up soon!


	7. Cole's Comforting Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara Lavellan takes a few of her friends to the Western Approach to get out of Skyhold and away from Daylen. Cole gives her assurance.

“Holy crap!” Iron Bull let out a whistle. “I still can’t believe we baited that dragon! Have I mentioned that you’re the best, boss?” He paused as he glanced up over the campfire, his scarred face wearing a huge grin. 

Varric chuckled. “I stand by my belief of wishing I’d stayed home.” 

“Dragon baiting – who knew it would be so damn fun!” 

Kara listened to Iron Bull go on and on about fun it’d been to fight the dragon, the thrill of striking the final blow, but her mind was miles away. She got up and wandered to the edge of camp, staring off at the desert wastes. Tomorrow they would set out on the long return to Skyhold, and she held quite mixed feelings on going back. 

That night of strip Wicked Grace…Kara let it go too far. Truly, she did not know why she let it go as far as it did, nor could she say why it was on her mind constantly. The day after, she decided to take Iron Bull, Varric and Cole to the Western Approach. Baiting and killing a high dragon was just something they stumbled into. 

Warden Amell was a man of many talents, apparently including leading Kara to making foolish decisions. She wasn’t going to deny that it didn’t feel good, that she didn’t want him to continue, but she wasn’t ready to make that last, final, intimate step. What if she did and once he bedded her, he left? Leaving after a night together would crush her completely.   
A boy appeared suddenly before her, crouching on a boulder. “Chaotic, cloudy, confused. You wonder so much you hurt.”

Kara feigned a smile. “Cole, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but-”

“But you shouldn’t. Wondering will hurt you.” Cole’s face was filled with compassion, his pale skin even whiter in the darkness, reflecting the flames of the campfire. “Muddled mistakes. He’s made many, but he’s saved many more. Heart growing dark, cold and shallow.” His expression changed when he added, “You are his light.” 

She crossed her arms, skeptical, even though she knew Cold was not wrong when he was so very attuned to the emotions of everyone he came in contact with. “I’m…” Kara trailed off, not knowing what she wanted to say. 

“Frightened, scared he will disappear, like Solas. Happened so fast, gone faster. Beaten, broken, bloody, born in battle, but raised in a tall prison. His fate was decided when he got out, marked, meant for death. He came for you, and he’s staying for you. Older, wiser, wanting to change.” Cole paused, unsure. “He wants you.” 

Kara sighed, running her hands through her hair and moving to stand beside the strange boy-spirit. His words were comforting, but doubts lingered. 

The boy cocked his head, his large hat blocking out the moonlight. “He wants to see you naked, wonders if you want to see him, too.” 

At that, she had to smile. Cole probably had no idea what he was saying, but it made her happy somehow, knowing that Daylen felt that way, knowing he wanted her. “Thank you, Cole,” Kara said. 

A strange conversation, but when was any conversation with Cole ever a normal one?


	8. The Return to Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara Lavellan returns to Skyhold after a long journey to the Western Approach. Cullen and Daylen exchanges plenty of handsome scowling. Daylen spends some time with the Inquisitor in her room.

Kara and her motley crew hadn’t spent five minutes back in Skyhold when the Commander called out to her from the battlements. She flashed Varric and Iron Bull a smile before venturing to meet him; Cole had already vanished, presumably to help the birds or spiders of Skyhold. 

A report in his hands, Cullen walked down the stone steps, greeting her with a warm expression. “I trust the Western Approach was uneventful?” he asked, the sunlight dancing in his amber eyes. 

“If you can call baiting a dragon and seizing a fortress uneventful, then sure,” Kara Lavellan said. 

“You are turning into quite the dragon hunter, Inquisitor.” 

“Well, I do plan on giving Cassandra’s family a run for their money.” Her peripherals saw the Warden emerging from the kitchen’s side entrance, biting the first bite of a juicy red apple. He instantly spotted her, grinned, and began making his way to her. Swallowing at the memory of that one game of Wicked Grace, Kara coughed. “What was it you had to show me, Cullen?” 

Daylen smirked, tossing the half-eaten apple into the air and catching it. “Yes, Commander, what was it you had to show her? Please tell me it’s not in your pants-” Cullen’s mouth dropped, and Kara found herself gasping. “What? Can’t anyone take a joke around here? You’re all so very serious, and it’s terribly boring sometimes.” 

She met the Warden’s fiery blue eyes as she managed to say, “Ignore him, Cullen.”

“Trust me,” the Commander muttered, “I intend to.” He moved closer to Kara, holding the report in front of her, inches from her lithe form. “I have received numerous reports about leftover Red Templars in the Emerald Graves-” 

As Cullen went on about the situation, Kara couldn’t help but notice how close he was. Did he always stand this close while speaking with her? Perhaps she simply hadn’t noticed. But that possibility dwindled when she noted the look on Daylen’s face, who was clearly irked at Cullen’s closeness to her. His handsome face was twisted in a frown, and he dropped his apple, no longer wanting it as he moved to stand at her left, as near to her as Cullen was. 

Cullen trailed off when he saw that Daylen had joined in, standing a foot away from, and the Commander sent the Warden a severe glare above Kara’s head, and for the next few moments, both human men glowered at each other, oblivious to the little elf sandwiched between them. 

“Don’t stop on my account, Commander,” Daylen hissed his title. 

“This is business for the Inquisitor,” Cullen shot back, “not you-”

“I have a lot of experience leading armies and ridding the world of big baddies. More so than you, Mr. Purge-the-Tower-at-all-costs-”

“I never gave into the temptation for power, which is more than I can say for you, Amell-”

Cullen and Daylen went back and forth for a while, with each insult, their voices rose and Kara felt tinier and tinier. She could not, for the life of her, understand why both men were acting like children. Daylen, she might have understood, but Cullen? Cullen, the ever serious ex-Templar, whose duties always came first? What had gotten into him? 

Throwing up her hands, she swore in ancient elvish, adding, “You are both acting like children. Stubborn, obstinate children! I’m going to take a nap, and by the time I wake up, both of you better have made up. This is my Inquisition, and so help me, if I can navigate the waters of the Orlesian Game, then you both can play nice!” Kara narrowed her large, wide eyes at the two men as she removed herself from their testosterone-fueled bickering match. “That’s an order, Cullen.” 

The Commander was slow to lessen his glare at Daylen and sigh as he looked at her. “Yes, Inquisitor.” 

Kara turned upon Daylen, who was smiling as if he’d never seen anything as amusing in his entire life. “And you, stop being an instigator. I get enough of that from Sera.” 

Clenching her hands, she spun on her heel and stormed to the main hall, passing the group of nobles who spent most of their days gossiping. She went to the farthest door on the left and headed up multiple flights of stairs to her bedchambers. 

Why did they act so idiotically? What in the world had gotten in their heads? 

She took off her armor, piece by piece until she was dressed in nothing but her beige clothes. Slipping off her boots, she slide into her plain bed, moaning into her pillow. Kara would never understand humans, especially the male ones. 

And besides, she wasn’t quite sure how to speak to Daylen Amell after that game of Wicked Grace. It was part of the reason she was so adamant to take part of her inner circle and travel, finish up some business in the Western Approach. She was embarrassed she let it go that far, mortified that she had ended up in nothing but her underclothes. 

He probably knew she sought to avoid him. 

Things were simpler when she was with Solas. Simpler, yes, but not necessarily better. There was a difference, one that Cole had helped her see. Still, that didn’t mean she wanted to admit it. She didn’t want to admit that she was in love with the bloody Hero of Ferelden. She was just an elfy Inquisitor. What could she ever offer him that he couldn’t find anywhere else? 

There was a knock on her door, and Kara kept quiet, desiring to take a serious nap regardless of whatever dire business had arose. When she didn’t answer, she heard the wood creak as the knocker pushed it open and meandered up the stairs, emerging in her bedroom. 

“So this is where the lovely Inquisitor sleeps,” Daylen spoke, amused. 

Kara turned her head so she could stare at him. “What do you want?” Hair splayed across her face, she stifled a yawn. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was going to take a nap.” 

With a dimpled grin, the Warden chuckled as he sat on the edge of her bed. “I see that.” Fingers tapping his knees, a profound silence fell upon him. His gaze moved to her, resting on her face. 

Trying her best to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, she said, “Did you and Cullen make up already? Is that why you’re bothering me when I should be sleeping?” 

“Cullen and I will never make up. How can we, when we both care for the same woman?” 

The words were blunt, as they were meant to be, but Kara found herself rattling away, trying to find another explanation, even though she already knew the truth, “Vivienne would never go for either of you, so I can understand why the tensions are high.” 

“You are the Inquisitor,” he reminded her as if she forgot. As if she could. “Surely you must recognize the fact that our intrepid Commander is in love with you.” Daylen laughed to himself. “I can’t blame him, though, for I’ve never met a woman quite like you.” 

She traced the wrinkles in the sheets, mind processing all he was telling her. 

“You were gone for a long time, Kara.” Daylen’s shoulders hunched, as if what he was seconds from saying was a secret he was nervous to share. “This place wasn’t the same without you. I…I missed you quite a bit, you know.” 

“How much?” she asked, egging him on. Kara propped herself up, tilting her head. 

“More than you know. More than I want to admit,” Daylen murmured, leaning to press his forehead upon hers, exhaling slowly. “I thought about you so much, and after weeks of deliberation, I’ve decided that the next time you go anywhere that’s not within a day’s walk from here, I’m coming with you.” 

Kara bit her lower lip when her gaze fell to his mouth. She couldn’t deny that she had thought a lot about him as well, though she wasn’t about to admit it out loud as he did. “Who says you’re invited to go adventuring with us?” 

He flashed his white teeth, running a finger along her jaw, their noses touching. “I invited myself, of course. Do you have a problem with that?” 

“No,” she uttered, “I suppose I don’t.” And with that, she closed what little distance there was between them, moving her lips softly to his, surprising him by making the move herself. Kara had thought long and hard about her feelings of him. Strong, intense, undeniable. She was drawn to him inexplicably, and she was tired of denying it. 

Daylen responded in kind, playfully biting her lip as he reciprocated, his kisses more heated and fervent, his desire more than clear, burning with an unstoppable flame. Her mouth parted, allowing entrance for his wet, warm tongue, and Kara couldn’t say how long they sat there, in her bed, getting reacquainted with each other’s mouth. He held her close, tight against his chest, moans escaping him every few minutes. 

Not fighting it, Kara felt at ease, at peace in his arms. If this was what love felt like, she never wanted to let him go.


	9. The Bloody Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor and her crew search for Red Templars in the Emerald Graves. The Hero tags along. When the Inquisitor falls in battle, the Hero resorts to magic that is hated and feared by all.

The Emerald Graves were too…green. Green above, green below, green moss and green grass. Green, green, green. It was one of Daylen’s least favorite colors. His utmost favorite, clearly, was red, and it made him chuckle with glee as they approached the Red Templar camp. 

“Why weren’t you affected by Corypheus’s Calling?” Blackwall asked as they hiked through the evergreen woods. He wore a puffy sort of armor, his beard so long and flowing that Daylen wondered if the man combed it. 

“I suspect I was out of range,” Daylen quipped. 

“You’re the Warden-Commander of Amaranthine, right? Shouldn’t you be there, or figuring out what’s going on in Weissupt?” 

“I could ask the same of you – oh, wait. You’re not a real Warden.” 

The irritating archer hissed, “Push off, yeah? He might not be a real Warden, but he was here, fighting with our Quizzy, standing up against Corphenus. More than you were!” Sera shot him a glare, and before she said anything else, the Inquisitor hushed them. 

“Shh,” Kara whispered, pointing to the cave where the Red Templars were camped out in. “Look. Is it just me, or does it seem deserted? Do you think they finally got the hint that their leader is dead?” 

Blackwall grumbled, still miffed at Daylen, “We should still check it out. We’re here, so we might as well.” 

“Twenty pieces says we find a skeleton with some cheese,” Sera giggled. 

With Kara leading them, they crept down the hill, passing numerous red lyrium shards growing from the ground. She would mark them on her map later, give the location to her scouts, who would send for soldiers who job it was to destroy the strange lyrium and safely transport it to someplace it wouldn’t harm nature or any race. 

The cave was eerily cold, the red lyrium on the walls illuminating the cavern in a maroon, murky hue. Deep mushrooms grew, resistant to the red lyrium’s effects. The further in they went, the more it seemed as though the camp was deserted. Within a few minutes, they emerged into a wide, spacious room. 

Cluttered tables sat, books with hastily scribbled notes atop them. Chests were scattered in the room, hinges hanging wide open. Lyrium was everywhere, in the air, in the floors, on the walls. So much lyrium. It filled Daylen’s throat, choking him. He looked to Kara, who had her nose wrinkled as she surveyed the cavernous space. It was quiet…too quiet. 

Daylen had seen enough traps to know where this was headed. 

“Inquisitor,” Daylen spoke quietly, pushing past Blackwall to stand beside her. “I think we should leave-”

“Oi, what’s this?” Sera muttered, picking up a palm-sized ball and bringing it to her face. The instant she did, the ball exploded, and a thick, hazy fog spread through the room.   
Coughing, she shouted, “Sorry! Thought I was the only one who could-” Another cough. “-make things like that!” 

“Ready yourselves,” Blackwall stated, “they’re coming.” 

Sera strung an arrow, Blackwall lifted his shield, and Kara twirled her staff. Daylen was slow to grab the staff off his back, tossing up a barrier as the fog cleared to reveal they had been surrounded by scores of Templars. They were unlike any Templar he’d ever seen. Some were giant behemoths, others had red lyrium blades for hands. The ones that most resembled the traditional Templar still had red, spikey lyrium growing from their chests. 

These Red Templars were certainly a bizarre looking foe. 

Chaos erupted as the group of four clashed with the Red Templars. Arrows pelted the enemies as Sera danced in and out of stealth, tossing potions that paralyzed and forced some Templars to fall asleep. Blackwall knocked on his shield, drawing the attention of nearby enemies. 

The Inquisitor moved in and out of view, fade-stepping into enemies and throwing them in the air as she reappeared. Staff in one hand, light sword in the other, she was a beautiful example of a knight enchanter. Elegant and graceful, she was far better navigating the battlefield than a snowy mountaintop. 

It had been a long while since Daylen had been in the fray of a fight. He wore a gleeful grin as he sent a large fireball to the nearest behemoth, blasting it into pieces. A cone of cold met with a group of five Templars who had decided to attack him after he so easily destroyed a behemoth. 

He was too busy gathering his will to launch an electric bolt to pay attention to the Inquisitor, to the woman he fell head over heels for. Daylen was too busy shocking the Red 

Templars before him to see the Templar that had snuck up behind Kara. Her barrier was depleted, and her focus was on the razor-armed men in front of her. Sera and Blackwall were too preoccupied with their own enemies to defend her, to stop the sneaky bastard from raising his sword and striking her from behind. 

A blade erupted in her gut, doused in her blood. Kara stumbled, her mouth fell ajar. The Red Templar holding the sword laughed as he yanked it out, chest rumbling with delight as she fell to the ground. 

“No,” Daylen yelled, his rage burning, boiling, bubbling up to the surface. That blade wouldn’t have gotten through if he had come at her head-on. What an underhanded tactic.   
It was one the Templar would never repeat. 

The Hero bared his teeth, twisting his staff so he could reach the blade on its bottom. Grunting, he drew the blade along his palm, cutting deeply. Though it had been a while, he hadn’t forgotten. The power that came from his blood was utterly intoxicating, and he shut his eyes, time crawling to a halt. All he heard was his breathing. All he felt was rage. 

The blood flowed from his hand, swirling as it rose into the air, and as he opened his eyes, his irises were no longer a deep blue. They were a fiery, dark maroon, burning into small wisps of pure magic. 

With a wave of his hand, he sent his blood toward the Red Templar that cut Kara down, impaling him and sending him to the cavern wall. Daylen snarled, drawing the blood from the Red Templar’s wound to fuel his blood magic. The Red Templar slumped to the ground, dead. 

It was a strange sort of blood Daylen commanded as he stole it from the Templars. It was tainted, whispering to him as he slaughtered the enemy one by one, forcing the Red 

Templars to turn on each other, to attack the remaining behemoths. As the Templar blood swirled in the room, winding and coiling, choking the enemy, its whispering increased, growing louder and louder.

Daylen wasn’t sure if he could take the whispering much longer. Normal blood made no such noise. So he had to end it now. Blood red gaze blinking, he let loose an animalistic snarl as he clenched his bleeding hand, balling up his fist. Within seconds, the Red Templars were mere corpses, still warm and oozing the murmuring blood. 

Blackwall and Sera slowly sheathed their weapons, stunned into silence. Daylen was the first to run to the fallen Inquisitor, followed soon by the warrior and the archer. He fell to his knees. The wound on his hand had healed, and he applied pressure to her wound, moving her head to his lap. 

Her large, elven eyes stared up at him, her blinking slowing. 

“Maker’s Balls,” Blackwall muttered. “That’s a bad wound-”

“And that was blood magic, wasn’t it?” Sera chirped. “I’d rather have found cheese.”

Daylen shut them out, for Kara’s responsiveness was reducing with each passing second. He recalled his days with Wynne, focusing all his remaining magic on her injury, seeking to stitch together her flesh, mend her torn insides. 

Kara exhaled once, eyelids fluttering to a close. 

Though he managed to heal her, she didn’t wake up. Daylen scooped her in his arms, standing. “Grab her staff. We have to get to the nearest camp.” 

He might not have been eye-to-eye with her friends, but they did not argue. They couldn’t. Kara had been gravely injured, and Daylen wasn’t sure if his healing had arrived soon   
enough. He wasn’t one to pray, but as they hurried to a nearby camp, he found himself doing just that. 

Maker, let her be all right.


	10. Old Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor rests from her injury. The Hero tells her a tale of another time. There's quite a bit of talk about cheese.

Kara’s lungs were like stone, the air filling her body like numerous, sharp knives. Letting out a moan, she struggled to open her eyes and sit, but an instant throbbing coursed through her, a sudden jolt of pain in her stomach. She laid back down, finally realizing she wasn’t alone in the tent. 

Daylen was beside her, watching with a worried expression. Blood from the battle was still smeared on his face and armor, yet he seemed not to care. He only cared about her. “Move slowly. I did my best to heal your wound, but you’ll still feel the pain for a while.” He grinned softly, cocking his head. “After another few days of rest, you’ll be fine, and we can get the hell out of this damned forest.” 

Despite her aching stomach, Kara felt herself smiling at the man. “Not one for greenery?” 

“Sadly, no. Nor am I a fan of the giants that roam these lands. Never had any of those back in my heyday. All we had were ogres. Lots and lots of ogres.” Daylen paused, sighing. 

Something weighed heavily on him. “You…you nearly died fighting those damned Red Templars.” 

She groaned, putting a hand on her belly. “But I didn’t.” 

“It was close.”

“I’ve had worse-”

Daylen smirked. “You liar.” He leaned toward her, swiping some hair from her forehead and tucking it behind her pointed ears. “Lies and bravado aside, Inquisitor, I’m glad you’re all right. I…I don’t know what I would do if you…” His hand rested on her cheek.

She moved her free hand above his, closing her almond shaped eyes as she took in the tenderness of his touch. Kara was seconds from reassuring him that she’d never die so easily when she vaguely recalled how the fight ended. The magic Daylen called on to defeat the Red Templars. 

“You used blood magic,” she whispered, slowly meeting his stare. 

Daylen frowned slightly, looking ashamed. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors surrounding me. Now you know they’re all true. Most of them.” His sarcasm fell flat, for he was too concerned about what she thought of him. 

She remembered a conversation she had with Solas, one that pertained to blood magic. She shared his views, and she struggled to voice them without sounding too morose about her lost relationship with the strange, disappearing Elf, “Blood magic is a tool. As long as you do not let it control you.” 

“I’ve been an atrocious blood mage for a decade now, and despite what the Chantry says, not every mage who turns to it becomes an abomination.” 

Kara patted the space beside her, gesturing for him to lay down with her. Once he caught on, he inched closer, laying his head beside hers. As she traced the lines on his armor, she inquired, “How did you learn blood magic?” 

The Hero of Ferelden was silent for the longest time. She felt his chest rise and fall with several breaths, each of which were about as labored as hers. Daylen moved his arm to hold her, muttering, “That is a story of a different time, and a different man.” 

“I’m certain if I asked Leliana, she’d tell me.” 

“Oh, I’m sure she would be more than happy to tell you all the horrid details of my life as the Hero of Ferelden,” Daylen mocked himself deeply as he spoke his title. 

“Then perhaps you should tell me.” 

“Are you sure? It…it’s not a pleasant tale, Inquisitor. You might think less of me after hearing it.” 

Kara thought on this. “Tell me.” 

And so he did. He told her the story of how he and his band went to Redcliff, saved the village from the walking dead, and snuck into the castle, where a sick Arl Eamon laid in bed, unresponsive, and his wife and brother were playthings for Connor, the Arl’s young son, who was possessed. The tale took a turn for the worse when, instead of going back to the circle, Daylen decided to use his old friend’s blood magic to enter the fade and approach the demon with the life of Connor’s mother. 

But that wasn’t the end of it. 

Instead of defeating the demon rooted in Connor’s mind, Daylen struck up a conversation with it, bargaining with it. In exchange for leaving it alone, it gave Daylen the power of blood magic. A terrible end for the boy, a pointless death of the mother, and horrible way to remedy the Redcliff situation. 

“How could you do that?” Kara asked quietly, stomach churning.

“I was a new Grey Warden, tasked with building an army and stopping the archdemon. I thought any power and aid was welcome, even if it came from a demon and cost others their lives. Like I said, it was a different time. I was…eager for power and authority, to put it lightly.” 

Biting her lip, Kara was measured in asking, “You claim to be a different man now. What does that mean? Who are you now compared to who you were then?” 

Daylen’s hand froze on her back, his mind searching for an answer to that question. “If I had to pick one word, I’d say…tired.” He heaved a sigh. “So very tired. If I fell asleep and never woke up, well, sometimes I think I’d be all right with it.”

His words sunk in, and Kara buried her face in his arm, murmuring, “There are days when I think that, too, but then I remember that there’s still a lot of work to be done. You hear that? If I can’t be done, neither can you.” She sent a small, comforting smile his way, moving her hand to his chest and resting it above his heart. 

Any time she looked at him, she was amazed at what she felt for the man. Even after telling her such an awful story – a story wrought with truth – she could not possibly think less of him. 

Daylen broke his serious exterior with an easy chuckle. “I’ve been at this for nearly a decade, Kara. Far longer than you. If either one of us deserves a break, it’s me.” A finger traced her jawline, and he softly added, “But I think I can hold off, lend a helping hand to your Inquisition. I’ll take my breaks when I can – as long as you promise to take them with me.” 

Kara nodded once, and that was all he needed. He removed his arm from beneath her head, propping himself above her and bringing his lips to hers, kissing her with fervor. He was gentle with her, careful due to her recent injury. As they kissed and ran fingers through each other’s hair, they heard a conversation between Sera and Blackwall. 

“Oi, Beardy! I told you we’d find a skeleton with some cheese! Cough it up!” 

“Hmmph. What in the world are you doing with all this gold you’re winning off me?” 

“If you’re so curious, why don’t you take a detour in the Commander’s office the day after we get back to Skyhold?” Sera giggled. “Take one guess of what I plan on filling his chambers with!” 

Blackwall chuckled. “Cheese?” He sighed explosively, exaggeratingly. “It’s always got to be cheese, doesn’t it?” 

Through their lip lock, Kara smiled. Yes, she was tired of being the Inquisitor. Alas, her companions helped her through, and she was grateful to them, thankful for their sometimes witty and always distracting banter. She thought she was happy with her life. She thought she had to be some terrible person, an unlovable elf. The only person that she thought loved her left, breaking her heart as he went. 

Here, today, those thoughts no longer haunted her. Whether or not Daylen felt anything for her, she felt worlds for him. She didn’t think less of him after hearing that story. How could she possibly lower her opinion of him, when she was so in love with him? 

Kara laughed, causing Daylen to pull back slightly and say, “What is it?” 

“The elfy Inquisitor and the bloody Hero of Ferelden,” she murmured, wrapping her hands around his neck, doing her best to ignore the pain in her abdomen. “Who would have guessed such a pair?” Before he had the chance to respond, she dragged his face back to hers, surprising him with the hunger behind her lips. 

Quite a famous pairing they made. One that each kingdom took heed of. A lot of gossip would surely follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter for a while (going on vacation and getting hitched... :D ) so bear with me guys! But there will be more chapters I promise!!


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